


Craving

by HistoireEternelle



Series: The Admiral and the Profiler [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Admiral!Red, F/M, Fluff, Profiler!Liz, Tumblr Prompt, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MrGoldsDearie prompted: Liz has a craving for a dish she has tasted in another country. Guess who gonna do anything to procure her that food ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Craving

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Ripper for you help! Love you!
> 
> Ashley, it wouldn't have been possible without you! You saved this fic with your idea!

Liz was lying in bed, her hands spread on her rounded belly, looking at a sleeping Red beside her. She chewed at her lower lip, not sure about her next move. She knew he needed to sleep, the more they grew close to term and the more stressed he was. She knew he had lost his first wife in childbirth, but she wasn’t Carla. She was strong, a fighter and everything would be okay; she knew it. But she couldn’t find a way to ease his fears.

Little Samuel gave another hard kick against her kidneys and she couldn’t muffle the groan that escaped her lips. Immediately, Red’s eyes were on her.

“What happened?” he asked, slightly panicked.  
“Nothing. Your son just thinks that my kidneys are his private punching bag,” she replied, massaging her back.  
“Come here sweetheart.”

She closed the distance between them, presenting her back and she immediately felt his hands work on her knotted muscles. It felt like heaven. She let out a content sigh when she felt his lips brush the nape of her neck. 

“Red?”

He hummed his lips pressed more firmly on her skin. She knew she had to move fast or he would be too engrossed in his ministrations to listen. 

“Remember that small restaurant when we went to France a few months ago?” she asked carefully.

After the Tom situation taken care of, they had flown to France and spent two weeks catching up on the last lost ten years, learning how to be a couple, how to live with the other. It had been the best two weeks of Liz's life. After only a few hours in Marseille, Red had found the perfect hole-in-the-wall and they had had the best dish she had ever tasted. A bouillabaisse. She had been two weeks pregnant at the time, not even aware of the small life growing in her belly and tonight, little Samuel seemed to remember the taste of the fish stew.

“Do you remember the bouillabaisse?” she asked again when Red hummed once more against her skin.

Liz held her breath, waiting for her words to sink in. She knew the exact moment he realized why she was talking about the dish in the middle of the night. Red’s lips and hands stopped moving and she felt his breath ghost against the nape of her neck when he sighed. 

“Again?” he whispered.  
“I’m sorry Red,” she replied, linking her fingers with his, feeling their son kick again against their joined hands.

She knew he would do anything for her and their family, but she still felt guilty about sending him all over the city for a stupid craving. But she couldn’t help it, she felt like she would die if she didn’t eat bouillabaisse soon. It was one of the down sides of being pregnant. She felt him sigh again before sitting up, already missing the head of his body plastered against hers. 

“I’ll do my best, sweetheart,” he said, looking down at her with sleepy eyes. “Sleep now, my love,” he added kissing her lovingly on the forehead.

Liz smiled and closed her arms around his neck, guiding his mouth to hers. She loved him so much. She let him go a few second later, knowing that he would turn the world upside down to find what she craved.

Red watched Lizzie’s eyes close and smiled tiredly. Over the past few months, she had sent him all over the town because of her cravings, but roaming the city to find cheeseburgers at four in the morning was something entirely different than what she was asking him tonight. Where on earth would he be able to find a decent bouillabaisse in the middle of the night?

Red slipped on his robe and went to his dresser to select the suit he would wear for the day. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he would be able to go back to bed before having to leave for work. Walking to the bathroom, he thought about the best way to resolve this problem. One sure thing, he wasn’t about to fly across half of the world for a fucking fish stew. 

His muscles relaxing under the hot water pouring down his body, Red realized he only had two solutions. Either he had to cook the dish himself, and he wasn’t thrilled by the idea at all, even if he was perfectly capable of doing it, or… Or he could call on Christophe. Red felt dread coil in his guts at the idea of waking up Christophe in the middle of the night. 

He exited the shower and dried himself before putting on the dark grey suit he had selected. First of all, he needed coffee. Red went to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, noting the 3:00 staring at him in that angry shade of green he hated so much right now. He fished his phone from his pocket and went through his contacts; bracing against what he knew was coming.

He watched the name on the screen a few seconds before locking the phone. He needed coffee first, he decided when the coffee maker on the counter biped. Taking out his “Best Daddy Award” cup from the cupboard, he filled it with the steaming beverage before going back to the kitchen table.

Red had met the young chef a decade ago. He had been employed in a restaurant Red had been a patron of. After years of friendship, Christophe had reached out to Red when he had been appointed SECNAV to help him get his Green Card. Soon after; the Chef had quit his job and opened “L’Arapède” a French restaurant in downtown New York. The two of them had stayed in touch over the years and Red knew his old friend would gladly help him and he would have called sooner if it weren’t for Christophe’s legendary bad temper. 

Red sighed and took back his phone, unlocking it, he swiped his finger on his friend’s name, calling him before he could change his mind.

“Quoi?” Red cringed at his friend’s angry voice.  
“Christophe? It’s Raymond.”  
“I hope you have a really good reason to call me at… Merde Raymond! It’s 3:30! What do you want?”  
“My…” What was Lizzie for him, he wondered. His girlfriend? Wasn’t he too old to have a girlfriend? She wasn’t his wife yet…  
“Your what Red! I don’t have the whole night!” Christophe yelled suddenly.  
“I need a bouillabaisse, Christophe,” he blurred out.  
“I hope you’re kidding me Ray… And just so you know, it’s not funny. Bye.”

Red looked at his phone chocked. Christophe had just hung up on him. He had to call him back.

“Look, I need a bouillabaisse. My… girlfriend,” he grimaced at the word, “is pregnant and she wants to eat bouillabaisse,” he said when his friend picked up the phone.  
“Are you completely nuts? Do you know how long it would take to cook such a dish? And, maybe you forgot when your young pregnant girlfriend had fucked your brain out, but I’m still in New York and you in Washington. How am I supposed to bring you the dish once it’s done?”

Red clenched his jaw at his friend’s words, but said nothing. He had to convince him to come over and wouldn’t risk pissing him off any further. 

“I’ll send you a jet, you can be here in two hours,” Red said, hoping it would be sufficient.  
“No.”  
“I’ll pay you whatever you ask. Please Christophe, I need you,” Red almost begged.  
“I taught you how to cook a bouillabaisse, Raymond, why do you need me to come over?” Christophe asked in a gentler tone.   
“Because it has to be perfect,” Red sighed, suddenly very tired.  
“Oh merde, Raymond. Who is she?” the young Chef asked.  
“Lizzie,” Red replied, smiling. He had spent hours talking about that young woman he had had an affair with without telling him her name until the day he had let it slip out.  
“Give me one hour to go shopping and grab some stuff from the restaurant and send the jet. I hope your kitchen is a well-appointed one or you’ll never hear the end of it. I’m happy for you my friend,” he said before hanging up.

Raymond let the breath he wasn’t even aware of holding out and slouched on his chair. He still had to call on some favors to make sure a jet will be waiting for Christophe in New York. He poured another cup of coffee and took back his phone. Scrolling through his contact, he chose to call on Denny. He had helped the man many times over the years until Denny met whom he called his flamingo and found someone else to get him out of troubles. 

“Denny Crane,” Red heard when his friend picked up.   
“Denny? It’s Raymond. Sorry to call you that early but I need a favor,” Raymond said, smiling.  
“Go ahead,” the man replied in a rough sleepy voice.  
“I need your jet for a trip to New York,” Red explained.  
“I thought that as SECNAV you’d had your own jet by now, Ray,” Denny laughed.  
“It’s… It’s personal.”  
“I bet it’s because of that lovely young FBI Agent you were with a few month ago!”  
“Yes,” Red sighed. He could feel his reputation crumbling even further with every call he made. “She’s…”  
“Spit it out Ray!” Denny laughed, perfectly awake now and obviously enjoying his time.  
“She’s pregnant and wants to eat a French fish stew, I have a French Chef waiting in New York to come over and cook it,” Raymond replied unwillingly.

He could hear Denny laughing his ass out on the other side. Red knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it but it was well worth it to make Lizzie happy. 

“My jet will be wheels up in fifteen. I hope she’s worth it,” Denny said when he finally stopped laughing.  
“She is… Thank you Denny, we’re even. Give my best to your flamingo.”  
“Denny Crane,” his friend said again before hanging up. 

Red called back Christophe immediately to let him know about the jet and could hear a crowd chatting behind him. His friend was already shopping. Looking at the clock on the coffee maker, Red realized he had two hours to kill before having to drive to the airport to pick Christopher up. 

He drank another cup of coffee and went to his office. Stopping by the bedroom, he watched Lizzie sleep a few minutes. She was sleeping on her side, a pillow between her thighs and his own pillow clutched in her arms. She seemed so peaceful. Red closed the door silently and made his way to his office. 

Two hours later, Red grabbed his navy blue jacket and dark grey fedora and left the house. He made it to the airstrip in less than fifteen minutes and waited patiently for Denny’s jet to land. He hoped his friend hadn’t forgot about it. Maybe he should have asked to talk to Alan? Red breathed in relief when he saw the Gulfstream’s wheels touch down, he watched it get closer and, finally saw Christophe walk down the stairs, his hands full of bags. 

“Christophe! My friend!” Raymond greeted the young Chef, engulfing him in a bear hug.  
“Nice to see you too, Ray! It’s been a long time,” Christophe replied, trying to return the hug with his arms and hands full of bags. “How’s Jenny? Does she have a boyfriend yet?” he asked ogling Red to see how he would react.  
“She’s not for you, Chris,” he replied, smiling slightly. “And she’s engaged,” he added mournfully. 

He was happy for Jennifer and Dembe, but seeing his baby girl engaged was something he would never have whished to see.

“You gonna be grandpa before you see it coming,” Chris laughed at the despair written on Red’s face.  
“Shut up!”

Christopher laughed out loud, rapidly joined by Red, while the two of them walked to the black Mercedes parked close by.

“Nice house,” Chris said when they parked half an hour later.  
“Let’s get inside and started, Lizzie doesn’t sleep well and should be up soon,” Red said, helping his friend with his bags.  
“You take care of the vegetables and I’ll work on the fishes.”

Raymond nodded, took off his vest and rolled up his sleeves before tying an apron around his waist. 

“Let’s see if you haven’t forgotten how to make a bouillabaisse,” Chris said, smiling smugly before presenting a knife to Red.   
“What?” Red frowned. “Alright, alright,” he said when it was obvious that Chris wouldn’t start cooking before Red gave him the recipe. “We need monkfish, scorpion fish, conger eel, john dory, weever, red gurnard, slipper lobster and jumbo shrimp. First we need to peel and crush tomatoes, garlic and onions then slice the leeks. Put everything in a big pot.” Chris nodded taking out each ingredients Red listed.  
“Go on.”  
“Gut the fishes, keep the livers. Add the heads and tails to the pot with olive oil. Add fennel, pepper, bay leaf, parsley and dried orange peel. Let it cook for fifteen minutes, and then add the boiling water. Let it simmer for twenty minutes. Strain through a fine-strainer and add saffron,” Red put the vegetables in the stockpot, while Chris finished to prepare the fishes.   
“Here comes the tough part,” the Chef said waiting for Raymond to continue.  
“Okay, let’s see. You have to cut the fishes in two or three parts, depends on the size, then to add them in the right order. Conger fish, john dory, monk fish, scorpion fish, red gurnard and weever!”  
“You got it!” the Chef cheered. It was the first time since he had taught Red the recipe that his friend didn’t jumble the fishes. “It’s already 8:00 so if you want your sleeping beauty to have her dish when she wakes up, I’ll have to speed things up.”

Red nodded and went to the bedroom to have a look at Lizzie. She had moved, lying on her back, her hands on her belly, she was still sleeping. Red knew that she wouldn’t stay that way much longer. For a while now she hadn’t been able to sleep on her back of a long period of time. She should wake up soon. He went back to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee, watching Christophe crush the fishes' liver to thicken the stock. He had always thought that part of the recipe gross.

At 8:30, Red heard movements coming from the bedroom, he excused himself and went to Lizzie. She was moving around in the bed, her eyes fluttering. He settled down on the mattress and she opened her eyes, smiling at him.

“Morning sweetheart,” he whispered kissing lightly her lips. “Sleep well?”

Liz hummed and pulled him to kiss him properly. Her hand at the nape of his neck, she let her nails scratch lightly his scalp enacting a deep moan from his throat.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said when she released him.   
“A surprise?” she asked excited. 

He laughed at the gleam in her eyes and helped her out of the bed. Slipping her robe, she linked her fingers with his and together made their way to the kitchen. 

“What’s that smell?” she asked when they stopped in front of the kitchen door.  
“The surprise,” Red replied, smiling. 

He opened the door and the smell of the bouillabaisse engulfed them. Red smiled proudly and looked at Liz, frozen by his side. 

“What…”

She suddenly ripped her hand from his, and ran as fast as her pregnant belly allowed her and disappeared through the bathroom door. Red looked at the closed door, puzzled, the surprised look on his face turning to panic when he heard the retching noises coming from the room.

“Lizzie?” he called through the wooden panel. He didn’t understand what was happening.   
“Go away Red,” she said in a small voice. “And get rid of that fish smell!”

He looked at the door a few more seconds before going to the kitchen where Christophe was waiting for him.

“Is she okay?” Chris asked when Raymond walked in the room.  
“Please, put everything in a Tupperware and take the garbage out,” Raymond said, opening the kitchen windows to let the crisp winter air breeze in.

Christophe didn’t argue. He had seen the look on Liz’s face when they had opened the door. When he came back to the kitchen, the room was empty and he could hear voices coming from the bathroom.

“Raymond?” he called. He didn’t want to intrude, but he had to be in New York soon if he wanted to be ready to open his restaurant at lunchtime.  
“Come in.”

Christophe pushed the door open and smiled at the sight that greeted him. On the floor, his back to the tub, Raymond was sitting with Liz between his spread legs. He has his hands on her belly, his chin on her shoulder.

“Lizzie, this is Christophe. Chris, meet Elizabeth,” Red said smiling from his position on the floor.  
“Nice to meet you at last,” Chris greeted.  
“Likewise.”  
“I called on Chris to cook a bouillabaisse for you. He’s a French Chef from New York,” Red answered her unasked question.  
“Oh God! I’m sorry,” Liz exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”  
“Doesn’t matter,” Chris replied. “I know how cravings work, you can’t help it,” he added reassuringly. “Err Ray?”  
“Yes?”  
“I need to be in New York for lunchtime, do you think you could…”  
“Oh yeah sure, sorry. Let me call Dembe and he will drive you to the airport.”

Red called his soon to be son-in-law and asked him to come over early, his hand moving on Lizzie’s belly, trying to feel his son moving, all the while. 

“He’ll be here in half an hour,” said Red hanging up.  
“Right. I’ll wait in the lounge then. It was nice to meet you Liz, you’ll have to come and try the bouillabaisse when the baby is born,” Chris smiled before leaving the room.

“You called a French Chef to cook for me?” Liz asked dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe to what end he would go to satisfy her.  
“I did,” Red replied kissing her throat.  
“And you flew him from New York?”  
“Hmm” He nipped lightly at her pulse point.  
“I love you.” She turned her head and kissed him deeply, her tongue slipping into his mouth to taste him. “What will we do with the fish stew?” she asked when they pulled apart to breathe.  
“I’ll give it to Dembe, Jenny loves the dish.”


End file.
